


all of my favorite scars

by Anonymous



Category: Vinland Saga (Manga)
Genre: Brother/Brother Incest, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Manipulation, Scar Worship, Sibling Incest, Wall Sex, gratuitous use of japanese sibling terms, niichan kink, olmar my awful baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:27:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21567622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: There's a building on Ketil's farm that needs mending, and won't get it.
Relationships: Thorgil/Olmar (Vinland Saga)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Anonymous





	all of my favorite scars

**Author's Note:**

> Working on more toruato h/c 👍 but I found out rudeass Viking delinquent Olmar calls his feral big brother NIICHAN in the raws and it elevated me to a new plane of giruoru existence. Please accept that he can say niichan in Norse for purposes of this fic. also thank you Wulf for strangling Thorgil, that panel was... instructive
> 
> (Not that anything I write can match the horny energy of Olmar crying, "Niichan, I've been disgraced :(" only for Thorgil to lift him off the ground one-handed and tell him, "I'll kill you myself if you don't kill this man")
> 
> re: warnings: Olmar is fully into the sex in this one, but niichan remains... niichan. Even if Olmar's enjoying it.

"Nngk. Nnh...!" The sounds are coming out of his throat thick and helpless, like Thorgil's fucking them out. He's up against a wall. Being held, all of him, up against a wall, his toes barely scraping the ground each time he gets pounded.

Thorgil's so big. He's buck naked in the shadows of this run-down barn. All his scars are showing. Olmar can't stop himself from looking at them lately even though he knows it's really, really wrong. Looking at his big brother like that. He hasn't seen much of the world but he knows that much.

He was trying to pretend, at first, he just thinks it's cool how much his brother's seen and done. He can't help it if Thorgil's scars and his muscles are the main evidence of that. It's not like there's anyone else to admire around here. Not like he stares at any other guys. Now that would be wrong, if he did that. Then he'd know for sure he's looking at Thorgil for the wrong reasons.

So he's been watching when Thorgil does his drills with his sword. They're a daily routine, to keep him from getting rusty. And Olmar's got his own sword, and who better to learn from? They've been coming out here where they can really get into it, and Olmar's been getting his ass kicked every time, and he's been looking. So much that it's not really a secret anymore.

But he's getting what he wants now. No fuss, no threatening to tell Dad. No beating the shit out of him for being a pervert freak. His brother's just fucking him. And this is what he wants, all right, there's no point in lying to himself.

"Niichan," he manages. 

"It's cute how you call me that still." Thorgil grins. "Tough shit-talking punk like you. You're so scrawny it almost works."

"You're so big." It's all he can think. Olmar's almost given up hope that he'll ever be built like his dad and brother. Thorgil's so strong. He can't think about anything else.

"' _So big_ ,'" Thorgil mimics. "Starting shit every chance you get. Picking fights with your own dad. The man who feeds you and keeps a roof over your head. Such a nasty little punk. And all this time you've been soaking your sheets over big bwother, huh?"

"Don't know when it started. Just, now. I need it now." There's so much heat inside him, it's almost like when he gets too angry to think. But Thorgil knows how to make it better. It feels like he's getting split apart and held together at the same time. The arms pinning him, holding him off the ground, they're strong enough to hold everything together.

Of course, Thorgil's hips are doing some of the lifting too. They push him up harder now, shoving him into the wall on an angle, in a thrust that makes him gasp. "I'm starting to think you've gotten a little spoiled," Thorgil says, "hanging around here with everyone at your beck and call. You need my cock, huh?"

"Yeah. Ohfuck. Niichan, please."

"Well, who am I to deny the young master something he needs so badly?"

He's _so fucking big_. But the way it hurts is good. It's so good getting shoved around and embarrassed in a way that at least gets him off. Olmar knows what his brother's like. He wouldn't have gotten hard for him in the first place if he didn't want it to be like this.

Olmar closes his eyes. This isn't the kind of hurt that can kill you. He doesn't have to be a coward when it's like this. Thorgil just teases. He's not trying to really make his little brother look like a fool, because he can't, because it's his family honor too.

Thorgil's the only fucking person who ever encourages Olmar to do what he wants. Even if he's kind of teasing when he does it. Letting him do the hurting is safe.

He cums into the air and when his eyes open again he's not surprised to see Thorgil's caught some of it—he can do anything. When Thorgil shoves his fingers into Olmar's mouth, he licks his own cum off them like he knows his brother wants him to, and the fingers stay in his mouth until Thorgil cums too, moving slower now to keep them from getting bitten off by accident.

Something dribbles out of him while Thorgil's carrying him across the room, and Olmar hears a laugh. "I'll let you slide on that one, Olmar. Mom would kill me if I let you eat off the floor."

He'd probably do it, Olmar thinks. As long as his big brother was there to lift him up and hold him after.

Lying next to him in the straw, Thorgil twists the curl on his forehead. "Dad's hair doesn't do this, you know. Just the two of us. What do you suppose that's about?"

"I do mine like this cuz of yours." Olmar knows he's being teased. He knows Thorgil knows the answer, and has for ages, but right now he has that nice empty feeling he gets sometimes after he cums. Like things don't matter as much. "It makes me feel cool, you know?"

"Isn't that sweet." Thorgil pulls him closer, dragging his whole body, and Olmar finds himself suddenly sitting on top of his brother, straddling him like he's fucking a woman. "You're full of surprises, little brother."

Looking down on Thorgil like this is too much for him and he has to look away. From the corner of his eye, he can still see his brother's soft cock pressing against his thigh. He's acutely aware of how much bigger Thorgil is, everywhere. And he's aware of how nice it is, having this warm lap holding him up. He wants to lie down on Thorgil's broad chest and stay there. Feel all his scars, one by one.

"Act like you're choking me."

"What?" He turns back to look at Thorgil, baffled. "Why would I do that, niichan?"

"Bend _down_ , Olmar," Thorgil says. "Hands on my throat. Like you're going to choke me."

The hands on his hips pull, hard, and he does it, because Thorgil's saying to, and because it means he can lean right over his chest. He thinks his face might be getting pink again just from the heat radiating upwards. His brother's beard is rough where it brushes against his fingers, and Olmar realizes he really wants to know what Thorgil's hair feels like. It's weird, how you never know that about people.

"You feel that pulse?"

Olmar nods, confused. His brother's neck is too big for his hands, and the lump inside his throat is lifting Olmar's thumbs too much to feel any pulse with them. It's only with his palms that he can feel it. The pounding is as steady as the rhythm of Thorgil fucking him. It's warm.

"One of the most vulnerable spots on the body. Your heart pumps so much blood through here, you can actually feel it on the outside. That's what you're going to be aiming for on the battlefield one day." He smiles. There's an edge behind it. "What are your instincts telling you right now, Olmar?"

"I..." Olmar swallows. "I-I have the advantage? Over you?"

All the air in his body escapes at once. The impact hits him next. He tries to breathe in but for a few seconds his mouth just hangs open uselessly. Something's pressing on his chest.

"Come on, Olmar." Thorgil's looking down at him, an elbow on his chest. "Would I take my cock out in front of you if I thought you had the guts to do _anything_? I could hand you all my soft parts on a silver platter and you'd pass 'em right back to me untouched. You're a long, long way from having the advantage, kid. Well," he adds, "try to think of that as a positive. Lots of room to grow."

Olmar nods, still too stunned from being flipped to know if it's a compliment or not. 

Thorgil leans in over him. There's a sound, and something warm and alien is in his still-open mouth. It takes him another second to realize the sound was Thorgil spitting in his mouth.

"Gah! Niichan!" He rolls over and spits onto the floor.

Thorgil roars with laughter. "I used to get you all the time with that! You were shit at fighting then, too."

"You've been gone so long," Olmar says, wiping his lips with the side of his arm even though he knows it's useless now. "How'm I supposed to remember that?"

"Aw, and poor little Olmar got all confused and horny without me around, huh? What a tragedy for the ages." He leans in again, collaring Olmar with an arm, and it takes Olmar much longer than a second to realize he's being kissed.

Niichan kisses him for a while. First sitting there, holding him close with one arm. Then on the floor. Held down with Thorgil's heavy weight on top of him, then rolled back on top so Olmar's lying on his chest like he wanted to earlier. Olmar lets himself be moved around wherever his brother wants, his head shrouded in a warm haze that no thought can penetrate.

Thorgil doesn't moan like he does, just grunts softly into his mouth every now and again. The way he does it is purposeful, determined. Manly.

In the back of his head, behind the haze, Olmar's aware that usually he'd be embarrassed by the noises he's making right now. But he's pretty sure Thorgil's doing this to _make_ him moan. Which means it's fine. Good, even.

His brother's arms are so powerful around him that he can't move his own very much. Olmar likes that. He runs his hands over the scars on Thorgil's chest, tracing the smooth thickness of the skin. Each one a hit Thorgil took and survived. Someone who tried to take him on and regretted it.

Finally he manages to get his hands to his brother's head, and he's lost in his long hair. He can hardly believe how thick and wavy it is. Like his before he ties it back, except better. Like everything else. His thumb brushes the really deep scar on Thorgil's forehead and it's like reaching further into him, further than the surface of the skin wants to allow.

Olmar feels a laugh against his mouth and one of Thorgil's hands strokes the back of his head in return. His hair tie fell out a while ago and the look he styled so carefully this morning has to be a total mess by now. Thorgil's fingers run through his loose hair, big hand tilting his head to one side, and a heatshock shoots through Olmar's whole body. 

He's hard again by the time Thorgil finally lets go of his head and pushes him up as if to say he's done kissing for a good long while. Olmar can't bring himself to climb off, and Thorgil doesn't make him. He lets Olmar lie on top of him, pressing the tissue of his scars to watch how they move against the normal skin.

Finally Olmar kisses one of them, right near his brother's collarbone. His lips feel swollen from how much Thorgil was using his teeth, and the scar is a smooth line standing out against the heat. "I want this," he says softly. "I want to be like you."

"You can get started on scars any time you want, you know. I hear you're shitty enough at handling the farm equipment."

"I mean it." He rests his forehead on Thorgil's chest. "I don't wanna run the stupid farm and spend all my time swinging a fucking hoe around. I want everybody to know how strong I am just from looking. Like they can with you."

"You'll get there." His brother's voice is unusually gentle, and Olmar looks up, startled. Thorgil reaches up to his own forehead and touches the curl. "We've got the same stuff inside us, Olmar. Blood will tell." He tweaks Olmar's curl, his torn lip lifting in a smile. "Hell, just look how much you surprised me today."

"You're the only one who gets it." Olmar buries his head in Thorgil's neck, breathing in the sweat from their aborted sword drills. The sweat from fucking him. It's impossible to keep ignoring it. "Niichan, I need you again."

Thorgil slaps the side of his arse, making him jump. "That's youth for you. How long you wanna keep going?"

"How long..." His voice cracks. "How long can I have?"

"I've got the day." Thorgil tosses that off like it's nothing. "Or if I don't, I will."

"All day. All day, please."

"You've gotten awfully slutty since I've been gone, haven't you?" Thorgil laughs. "If that's what it takes to satisfy you. I think I'd better head back and wash off first, though."

"It's fine." Olmar sits up quickly, still straddling his brother. "I... I wanna go again. I don't care if you're sweaty."

"I'm talking about my cock, Olmar. For your sake, I think I'd better wash it off." His voice dips into a lower register, almost a growl. "You want it in your mouth, don't you?"

For a split second Olmar can already feel the weight of his brother's hand resting on his head. "Yeah," he says, so quickly he's embarrassed for himself.

"I thought so. How about you try staying on your knees till I get back. I won't keep you long." His eyes travel over Olmar's body. "Pick a spot I can bite. Somewhere that won't show."

"Y-yeah. I will." His face is so fucking red. But Thorgil's thinking of _him_. All of this is for him. His brother's not going to tell anyone about this. He's going to let Olmar have even more. There can't be any other big brother out there, anywhere, who's brave enough to do all this for his little brother. "Can you... when it's in my mouth, can you put your hand on my head. And leave it, please. Niichan." 

"Oh, Olmar," his brother says. A grin breaks across his face. "We are gonna have such fun."

Olmar's whole body is warm with how happy he is, as he watches Thorgil leaving. His brother is the most perfect Norseman there could possibly be. And someday he's going to prove to everybody that he can be just like him.

He has to.

**Author's Note:**

> me: im gonna write something where olmar has a good time for once :)  
> olmar's Stockholmed inner voice: No


End file.
